


Looks Like I Picked The Wrong Day.

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-05-23
Updated: 1999-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-10 12:28:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11127003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived atDue South Archive. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onDue South Archive collection profile.





	Looks Like I Picked The Wrong Day.

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Looks like I picked the wrong day...

# Looks like I picked the wrong day...
    
    
    by Trish Darbyfeld
    
    ObDisclaimer: This story contains references
              to implied solvent abuse and at least one `jeez'.
              You have been warned.
    
              All characters remain the property of Alliance,
              and I promise to put them back where I found them
              when I've finished playing with them.
              Which might be sometime next millennium at the
              rate I'm going. :)
    
         Detective Ray Vecchio let out a sigh that was more of a
         groan and sagged forward, resting his forehead on the file
         he was reading.  "Ahh, jeez.  What a day."
    
         On the other side of the desk, his *de facto* partner
         Constable Benton Fraser was, unusually for him, leaning
         back in the visitor's chair with his feet propped on the
    
         wastebasket.  Collar undone and tie hanging on the hatstand, 
         sleeves rolled up and hair dishevelled from him running his
         fingers through it, Fraser looked positively ruffled --
         for him.    "It *is* proving to be one of those days,
         isn't it?"
    
         Ray straightened with a groan, indulging in a bone-popping
    
         spine stretch.  "That *was* a rhetorical question, wasn't it, 
         Frasier?" he groused.
    
         Instead of his usual "Yes Ray," Fraser merely muttered "Yeah, 
         it was."  Which demonstrated how tired *he* was.
    
         Ray groaned again, arching his back and running his own
         fingers through his hair.  "Looks like I picked the
         wrong week to quit sniffing white-out."
    
         That made Fraser look at him sharply.  "Sniffing white-out?" 
    
         "Yeah," said Ray in tones of great satisfaction.  "Sniffing
         white-out."  With that Ray picked up the correction fluid
         from where it sat in readiness for his next typing bout,
         applied it to one nostril, sniffed deeply and pantomimed
    
         a state of happy dazedness; goofy smile, glazed eyes and all. 
    
         "Er, Ray," Fraser pointed out.  "Surely if you're going to
         inhale that stuff -- and I'd advise you *not* to -- you
         should take the cap *off*?"
    
         "Hey, Benny," said Ray in tones of great satisfaction,
         "with my nose you don't *need* to take the cap off."
    
         With that he applied the correction fluid to the other
         nostril, inhaled deeply, assumed the same expression of
         dazed goofiness, reeled slightly and sank to the floor.
         While Diefenbaker went to check on him, Fraser, Elaine,
         and the Duck boys exchanged bemused glances, shrugged
         practically in unison, and offered Ray a round of applause
         for his acting talent.
    
         "Fuzz, get your whiskers out from up my nose," came a mutter 
         from under the desk.
    


End file.
